dec26

Dec 26

Waiting in a Massager Chair

The plastic balls on their trackdig their way through the mottledarguments in my back the way your hands never could. Instead, your fingers wander delicately, water spiders testingthe surface tension of skin.

This is a different approach to touch.The impersonal kneading, theshovel that whirs my muscles into soil for some new crop.There are no mysteries here,no chance an old hurt will caveunder the automated pressurethe way they might under a tongue, a nail.